


even when I lose I'm winning

by AudreyV



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Bisexuality, Drunk Sex, Exhibitionism, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Multi, Post Season 3, Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 19:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11386464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: Frank and Laurel make a bet. Laurel loses. (But also wins.)---Laurel/Bonnie with past/background/planned future Laurel/Frank, Bonnie/Frank & OT3 fun. Set after Season 3, spoilers for season 3.





	even when I lose I'm winning

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for an ollllllld Tumblr prompt: “We bet and you lost, so you have to do it.”
> 
> Man, I miss this show and these characters and y'all. This has been basically done for ages, but I was waiting to post it until I had what I envisioned as part 2 done. Not sure when that will happen SO you get this little, self-contained romp now and if part 2 materializes I'll post it as a new fic in the series. 
> 
> Now... onto the graphic lesbian sex.

“We bet and you lost, so you have to do it.”

Laurel really wanted to wipe that smug smile off Frank’s face. Although she had to admit, with it he looked more like the man she used to know. The newly grown beard and the tie around his neck helped the illusion, even if on some level they all knew it WAS an illusion.

“Fine.” She stomped down the bar to where Bonnie was precariously perched on a stool. Michaela and Asher were sitting between them at first but they left an hour ago and Bonnie hadn’t moved to close the gap. (Maybe she didn’t want to talk to either of them. Maybe she was pissed at Frank. Or maybe she was just enjoying a solo drink. Laurel had no idea, but she was going to crash the party anyway.)

“What do you want?”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

Bonnie glanced suspiciously at Frank, who winked at her.

“No.”

“C’mon, Bonnie. Peace offering?” Laurel pouted. “I know it’s been weird, considering—“

“Considering you blamed me and Frank for killing the love of your life, even though we were both putting our asses on the line trying to figure out who actually did?”

Laurel bristled at Bonnie’s tone of voice, the dig at Wes, but she didn’t want a fight. She kept her tone even as she replied.

“You did that for Annalise.”

“That's fair.” Bonnie drained her glass and plunked it down on the bar. “But it was still shitty that you so easily declared us murderers.”

“We’re all murderers,” Laurel hissed under her breath. Bonnie slumped a little and inclined her head in reluctant agreement.

“That's also fair,” she muttered.

“What I was going to say is that it's weird that we've both—”

“Ah, I get it. Boned Mr. Smug Delfino over there?” Bonnie huffed, exhaled in something that was almost but not quite a laugh. “He really can't keep a secret, can he?”

“Neither can you.” Laurel crossed her arms at Bonnie’s raised eyebrow. “It was written all over your face when I asked you about it. You smirked like the cat who ate the canary.”

Bonnie held Laurel’s gaze for a long moment, then turned back to the bar and took another sip of her drink.

“Man, you misread that,” she muttered. Laurel knew she should let it go, but she was right and she needed them both to know it.

“That wasn't your ‘I fucked Frank but I'm trying to decide if telling the truth or lying will get me what I want?’ face?” Laurel asked. Bonnie looked up at her, shook her head and laughed.

“Fine. You can buy me a drink. I’ll take your best bourbon, on her,” Bonnie told the bartender, sliding her empty glass to him. Once the drink was in front of her, she sipped it, eyes straight ahead. “Are you and Frank back at it?” she asked lightly, as if she didn’t care about the answer either way.

“No.”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“Maybe.” Laurel bit her lip, tried to choose her words carefully. “Look, Frank and I made a stupid bet, and I lost, and so I have to… uh…”

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and her cheeks flushed deeper pink. 

“If you can’t even say it, it’s definitely going to be good.”

“Get you to kiss me.” Laurel thought she saw disappointment on Bonnie’s face, but then the implacable (if tipsy) mask snapped back into place. “It doesn't have to be on the mouth, the bet wasn't specific, so it could be my cheek, forehead—“

“You wanna mess with his head a little?”

“What?”

“I’ll kiss you for real, and we’ll put on a little show for Frank.” Bonnie’s lips curved up in a wicked smirk. “Then you’ll come with me to the bathroom, we’ll stay in there long enough to make it believable, and come out looking like we just screwed.”

“Frank won’t buy that.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re too straight.”

“Of course not. But you are,” Laurel said, a half-second before the implication of Bonnie’s taunt hit. She tried to ignore the graphic images that spun through her mind, but her perception of who Bonnie was had hit a wall and was rearranging itself rapidly. “Really?”

“I went to college too.” This time Bonnie laughed for real, chuckled as she looked into her glass. “A little before you, but I promise girls were screwing each other even as early as the late 90s.”

“Sorry, I just… didn't expect that.”

“It's okay. I like surprising people.” Bonnie’s eyes searched Laurel’s face. “That look I gave you when we played pool? You sort of got it right.”

“Sort of?”

“I was trying to figure out which answer would get me what I wanted.”

“Doesn't that mean I was all the way right?” Laurel asked in a slightly sassy tone. She leaned a little closer to Bonnie, expecting her to shift away, but she didn’t.

“Depends. What did I want?” Bonnie asked and Laurel suddenly wasn’t so sure she had the right answer.

“To get me to tell you if I'd talked to Frank.”

“Partial credit. Buy me another one.”

Laurel grinned and signaled the bartender. “So… any girls since college?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.”

“I would.” Other women might have flinched or just gone with Bonnie’s redirection, but Laurel was too curious. “That's why I asked.”

“A few. I don't date much in general.”

“You date them too?”

“Sometimes.” Bonnie laughed, rough. “We can't all be bone em and leave em Delfino over there.”

Both of their focuses went back to Frank, who was leaning close to talk to the tipsy girl on the barstool next to him. Laurel heard Bonnie sigh, but it was less a sound of frustration and more one of begrudging acceptance.

“So why only partial credit? What else did you want?” She opened her mouth to say something else but Bonnie reached out and pulled her over, close enough for her to smell hints of lilac perfume.

“You tell me,” Bonnie said.

Laurel knew Bonnie was fucking with her, knew that sultry tone ws intentional, designed to make her uncomfortable and off-balance, and she wasn’t going to fall for it.

“Very funny,” she shot back. “You wouldn't fuck me after the crap you gave Frank about it.”

“I lost the moral high ground when I hooked up with Asher,” Bonnie admitted. “And I’ve wondered about you. Frank doesn't usually get so invested.”

“You think it's because I'm great in bed?”

“I think that's a possibility worth exploring,” Bonnie replied.

Laurel searched the other woman’s face for any sign she was being teased or manipulated, but Bonnie was calm and unusually transparent as she waited for a response.

“How many of those have you had?” Laurel asked finally.

“Are you asking if alcohol makes me a slut?” Bonnie shrugged. “Maybe. Or it quiets the anxious voices in my head and lets me want what I want.”

“Okay.” Laurel decided there was no harm in playing along until she could figure out what was really going on. “So what do you want?”

“Right now I want to put on a show with you that’ll make that idiot regret sending you over here.”

Laurel glanced back at Frank, pleased when she saw he’d totally abandoned his flirtation and was staring, his eyes wide, at Bonnie’s arm around her waist. She smirked at him then turned back to Bonnie and leaned down.

Bonnie was a more aggressive kisser than she'd expected. She waited for Laurel to escalate things, but responded zealously once she did. Gentle closed mouths morphed into tongues twisting and sliding. One of Laurel’s hands tangled in Bonnie’s hair while the other slipped under her blouse, fingers dancing across bare skin. (She wanted to move her hand up to cup Bonnie’s breast, but she hesitated because they were still in public. Bonnie's hand grazed the bottom of her bra, but went no further, similarly observant of that unspoken boundary.)

Laurel hadn’t made out with a woman in a long time, but it was like coming home after an extended trip. At first it was graceless and unfamiliar, messy, drunk, but then Bonnie melted under her focus and it was just like she remembered. Intoxicating, delicious and soft.

Her head was spinning a little when Bonnie finally let her go.

“Bathroom?” Laurel asked, too eager.

“I might have a better idea,” Bonnie mused.

Laurel was so turned on she knew she'd do it, anything, so she Didn’t bother asking what it was.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” she said. Her hand settled on a slim hip, squeezed, and she liked the way Bonnie body tensed against her.

“Settle your tab and get your stuff. I’ll calling a car back to my place for the three of us.” Bonnie’s teeth raked across her pink lower lip and Laurel was definitely staring. “And I mean that exactly how it sounds.”

She knew she shouldn't. Bonnie was so drunk, and she and Frank weren't sober, but Laurel kissed Bonnie again, hard and definitive like it was a contract.

“Think he’ll be able to handle it?” Laurel asked. They both looked over to Frank, who’d finally gathered his wits enough to make his way over to them.

“If not at least he’ll die happy.”

—

“You. Sit there.” Bonnie ordered as soon as they we’re in the door. Laurel almost objected to say maybe they should actually make it to the bedroom, but then Frank sat obediently in a chair and she flushed at her gut telling her he was turned on by Bonnie bossing him around.

“Why don't you sit down, Laurel,” Bonnie said in a gentler tone, vaguely gesturing toward the couch. She headed for the kitchen. Laurel and Frank looked at each other.

“This isn’t quite how I pictured us starting to fuck again,” she said. Frank grinned.

“So you did picture it,” he said smugly, but then the smirk faded and his face got as readable as it had ever been, open and almost kind. “You can still back out, if you’ve changed your mind. She won’t judge you.”

“Would you?”

“‘Course not.” He frowned and leaned forward in the chair. “Seriously. Bonnie’s got like two dozen board games and neither of us will be pissed if you’d rather play Monopoly.” The rakish grin came back and it made Laurel’s heart flip-flop. “Though I bet she’d pick fucking you senseless over owning all the railroads any day.”

“And you?” Laurel’s eyes drifted down to Frank’s lap. Seeing him already getting hard sent a jolt through her. “Would you rather fuck me senseless?”

Frank’s eyes flashed and he was about to answer when Bonnie came back in with three glasses of water on a tray. She handed one to Laurel, who was sitting primly on the white sofa, and another to Frank. She waited until Laurel put her glass down, then stood in front of her and used two fingertips on one hand to push her back against the couch. Laurel went along without a word, unsure but steady, until Bonnie straddled her lap and leaned down, bringing their lips together again.

In the past, Laurel‘s taste pulled toward women who were bigger than she was and all angry hard edges. She’d always been the one doing the seducing, the one writhing on top, the one pinned under and getting fucked. This new sensation — a small, pliable body on top of her, silky skin under her hands — was novel and intoxicating.

Thoughts of the last person she kissed like this flashed through her brain. It hurt, but it had been months and she'd rather do this with a friend than a stranger. That Bonnie was a woman made it a little easier to ignore the pangs of grief.

In the bar, Bonnie let her lead. Laurel realized now it was a test. She needed to prove her interest wasn't merely about making Frank squirm, or this invitation wouldn't have come. She passed and now the woman in her lap took control, set out to seduce her as if she’d already drafted an eleven point strategy on how to do so.

Bonnie’s tongue coaxed her mouth open. Laurel thought she heard Frank say something but she couldn’t focus on that and this at the same time, and this couldn’t be ignored. The scrape of teeth against her lip sparked a rush that burned through her. She slipped her hand under Bonnie’s top and raked her nails along her side.

She could almost hear Connor and Michaela admonishing her to stop thinking with her clit, but the way Bonnie shuddered against her drowned them out. Laurel was throbbing, every inch of her, and suddenly she had no idea why she hadn’t done this since college. (Later she decided it was because she hadn’t had an opportunity that intrigued her like this one. It might have been true; she thought it could have been Michaela trembling in her arms, had her fellow law student been bold enough to make that move.)

Her top sailed across the room. Bonnie made quick work of her bra and this time Laurel clearly heard Frank mutter “Jesus” like it was a prayer. She expected him to have his cock out when she glanced over, but he was just sitting, hands gripping the arms of the chair, erection straining against his pants.

“Bedroom?” Laurel managed, barely, as Bonnie's tongue lingered on a rosy peak.

Brown eyes flashed up at her as Bonnie slid down off her lap onto the floor. She knelt between Laurel’s legs and pushed up her skirt.

“Soon.” Bonnie skimmed her fingers across Laurel’s upper thighs, let them meander up until they reached the hem of her underwear. “Can I take these off?” she asked softly.

It confused Laurel for a minute, because she thought the way she was squirming made the answer obvious, but she nodded anyway.

“I want to hear you say it.”

That made more sense, and Laurel could play that game.

“Take them off and fuck me,” she said, breathy, greedy. She was pleased at the flash of surprise on Bonnie’s face.

“What's it like hearing her say that to someone else?” Bonnie asked Frank with a smirk.

“Someone else, I'd be pissed. You? Hot as hell.”

“Less talking,” Laurel interjected. “Take them off or I do it for you,” she added, lifting her hips.

Bonnie tossed Laurel’s red underwear at Frank. He groaned and muttered “you're killing me,” but still made no move to touch himself.

Even half out of her mind with lust, Laurel was smart. She’d put the pieces together. Frank knew the rules for this in advance. Bonnie’s breath was hot at the juncture of her thighs before Laurel could spend much time considering why that was the case.

She didn’t care why. Laurel scooted down and splayed her legs apart, plunged her fingers into Bonnie’s hair, fighting to stay gentle as she tugged her closer.

The kiss at the bar started off haphazard, but Bonnie was smooth now, and as precise at this as she was at prepping for a trial. She tested different tactics, paid attention to what prompted a reaction, strategized— except instead of a witness it was Laurel she was taking apart. (It was different, so different than Wes, whose technique had more in common with Frank’s than Laurel realized, and she was glad of that because she could be there, in that moment, rather than months in the past with someone who didn’t exist anymore.)

Teeth grazed Laurel’s thigh and her breath caught. When long, gentle licks across her outer lips didn’t wind Laurel up, Bonnie changed her approach and plunged her tongue between slick folds. Laurel knew some kind of sound must have come out of her, because Bonnie moaned a little, obviously pleased, and repeated the motion. Her hands were firm on Laurel’s hips as the brunette arched into her mouth.

“Fingers too?” Laurel asked and Bonnie’s eyes met hers.

“Depends. You a one and done kind of person?”

“Not even close. Frank will back me up on that.”

“Insatiable. Every time she comes, she wants the next one more.”

Frank. For a second, Laurel wondered how much of this was a performance for his benefit, but when Bonnie gently slid one finger into her, she stopped caring.

“More?” she begged. “I want you to fill me up.”

Delicate fingers pushed into her, inching forward slowly. Laurel’s eyes drifted closed and she sighed contentedly.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, relished the feeling, still and serene until a firm tongue laved against her. Her hips bucked and she throbbed around Bonnie’s fingers.

Maybe it was just a performance. It could have been more about the man watching than it was about her, but Laurel wasn’t so sure. Lips teased her almost reverently, like Bonnie’s focus was so pinpoint narrow the body shuddering under her touch was the only thing in the world, and Laurel knew deep down Frank wasn’t the only one who’s getting off on this.

She blindly reached down to the hand resting on her hip and grabbed it. Bonnie squeezed, let that point of contact be an anchor, firm and grounding as the rest of Laurel started to light up.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that,” Laurel babbled. Her back arched as Bonnie’s pleased moan vibrated through her pelvis and electricity zapped down her spine. Her skin prickled as fingers flexed inside her, the buzz traveling along her nerves to her center. Her free hand scrabbled along the fabric of the couch, searching for something that would give her purchase, traction, as she went higher. Laurel’s brain was hazy; she was so close but not quite over the edge. She petted Bonnie’s hair, trailed her hand down to cup her cheek.

Frank said something, she wasn’t sure what, but then Bonnie shifted, thrust harder, pressed her lips against Laurel and sucked gently, exactly like she liked. Laurel thought about Frank telling Bonnie how to make her come, and the idea was blisteringly erotic. She turned her head to look and even though she couldn’t focus on him for long, she could tell he wanted her— them— so badly it hurt. He was watching like he was afraid if he blinked, they’d disappear, and he couldn’t let that happen because he was famished. Laurel’s brain whirred into gear for a moment; she wondered if she’d get to feel Frank inside her next, wondered if she’d be allowed to make Bonnie come with her fingers or tongue, hoped she’d get both, wanted both at the same time.

She looked down, but Bonnie was focused on fucking her into orbit. Laurel gripped her hand tighter as she felt herself getting close, and she stroked Bonnie’s face to make her look up.

Bonnie didn’t stop, didn't miss a beat as her eyes met Laurel’s. She slowed the movement of her hand so she could slide another finger in. It made Laurel groan; her body had been hungry for that, craving more. She spread her legs wider as Bonnie lapped at her, then sucked her clit fast and insistent.

Laurel’s body went rigid as it overloaded, circuits lighting up, unmoored energy rushing through her blood vessels and pounding in her brain. She tried to keep her eyes on Bonnie, but they slammed closed as she twisted, cried out, thumped her head back against the couch over and over in time with the shockwaves that cascaded through her.

The rush dulled to a mild buzz and she managed to open her eyes. One of Bonnie’s hands was inside her, but still. Laurel realized she was holding so tight to the other it had probably gone numb and relaxed her grip.

Bonnie leaned forward to kiss Laurel’s thigh before slowly easing her fingers out. Laurel giggled as aftershocks streaked through her.

“Hm. You look a little one and done,” Bonnie teased gently. The challenge flipped a switch in Laurel and she went from being sleepy and buzzed to reenergized and a little indignant.

“Voy a devorarte,” Laurel hissed. She surged forward, thrust her tongue inside Bonnie’s mouth while her hands pushed her shirt and bra up to grope at her breasts.

“Oh, you’re in for it now.” Frank chuckled and Laurel remembered he was in the room.

“What does that mean?” Bonnie gasped as Laurel trailed kisses down her neck.

“Pretty sure she just told you she’s going to eat you up.” He stroked his beard. “Seems fair, considering you just made her come like that.”

“So tell me the rules,” Laurel said, hands still roaming.

“What rules?” Bonnie tried to look stern, but gasped and shuddered when Laurel rolled her nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

“The two of you have obviously done this before.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Frank sitting in that chair with a hard-on, just watching.” Laurel shrugged and took the opportunity to casually strip off Bonnie’s blouse. “Not trying to join in, except when he told you how I like to be fucked. And I know he wanted to.”

“I'm sure he did. Sometimes he even gets to.” Bonnie smirked. “But you’re right. He’s probably been a good boy for long enough to earn a little fun of his own.”

“Just a little?” Frank objected. “C’mon, I gave you that tip about sucking on her clit, that’s gotta earn me something.”

“It should earn you a time out, because you’re supposed to sit there quietly unless I speak to you.” Bonnie’s firm tone sent a shiver through Laurel, who noticed it just made Frank look hungrier.

“So you do this a lot?” Laurel asked. She caressed the side of Bonnie’s breast as she watched the two of them exchange a look. “I deserve to know what I've stumbled into here.”

“You do,” Bonnie agreed. “Frank? You want to explain or should I?”

“I wouldn’t say we do it a lot,” Frank said. “But at one point, yeah we used to.”

“It was before you and Frank,” Bonnie reassured her quickly.

“That setup in the bar?”

“Sometimes,” Bonnie replied. “When you came over to me with that line about the bet, I wasn’t sure, but one look at Delfino over there made it crystal clear.”

“You could have just told me.”

“Right. ‘Let’s go back to my place and I’ll make you come while Frank watches.’ Would it have worked?”

Laurel shrugged. “Maybe,” she said truthfully. “But it was nicer being seduced.”

“Good. You feel okay with everything?”

“I think so.” Laurel felt Bonnie shift in her arms, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“I should have thought of this earlier but… when you said you and Frank hadn't… I didn't think.”

It hit Laurel, what Bonnie meant, and she felt guilty for a second, as if she’d just been unfaithful to a ghost.

“I hadn't since— but it had to happen eventually.”

“I can't imagine losing someone I cared about like that,” Bonnie mumbled. Laurel saw her eyes dart over to Frank and she understood more than she did before.

“It was awful. But I don't think he'd expect me to never love anyone else. Or to stay celibate forever,” Laurel added, because it was what she meant to say in the first place and she's not sure why she didn't.

“I'm sorry, Laurel.” Bonnie squeezed her hand and even though they were both topless it was somehow chaste and reassuring.

“I am too,” Frank said quietly and Laurel believed him.

“Thanks. I really appreciate that.”

The three lapsed into silence for a moment and Laurel felt Bonnie fidgeting from one foot to the other. Before she could ask, Bonnie spoke.

“I’d offer to drive you home, but I’m a little too tipsy to do it safely,” she said quietly. “But I can call a cab for you if you want.”

Laurel tensed, wondering if she’d done something wrong or if this was where the game was meant to end in the first place.

“Go home?” She looked from Bonnie to Frank and back again. “Wait, we’re not done, are we?”

A bright smile blossomed across Bonnie’s face.

“I just thought…”

“She didn’t want to assume anything,” Frank offered. “Neither of us do. But to tell you the truth, I hope we’re a real long way from done.”

Laurel nodded firmly, committed to this in her head— whatever it turned out to be.

“So tell me the rules,” she repeated.

“The rules are that he behaves himself and doesn’t join in until we’re in the bedroom,” Bonnie said. “There are usually others, but this is an unusual situation. We’ve never done this with someone we… Regardless, I don’t think they apply to you. Frank?”

“I dunno. Might be better to send her home as soon as we’ve worked her over,” he teased. “The bed is a little small.”

Laurel let go of Bonnie and stood directly in front of Frank, feeling smug when he couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts.

“Only big enough for two?” she asked sweetly.“It’s a shame you’ll have to go home when Bonnie and I are done with you.”


End file.
